


Aww, Uterus

by hufflepirate



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Bodyswap, Gen, Period Cramps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepirate/pseuds/hufflepirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye and Hawkeye get bodyswapped in the middle of a fight.  Clint ends up with Kate's period.  She doesn't really feel bad for him.  Her cramps wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't been stressing her out all month...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aww, Uterus

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Fraction's run, but pre-Kate's LA adventure and Clint's deafness.
> 
> And yes. This is silly. But I'm on my period and it's a pretty bad one, so I thought I'd inflict it on Clint.

"Ouch," Clint said, grabbing at his - her - lower stomach, "What _is_ that?"

Kate rolled her - Clint's - eyes.  Just when she'd thought this both-of-them-being-Hawkeye thing couldn't get any weirder, they'd mystically switched bodies.

She really hated going up against magic.  It just wasn't _fair_.  Not that many fights were fair when your primary weapon was a bow and arrow, but she and Clint usually did alright, and she wasn't feeling so good about this one.  Then again, if there was ever a time to hang out in someone else's body instead of her own...

 "It's fine," she told him, picking up his bow from where she'd dropped it in the shock of suddenly being in a new body, and testing out the pull on it.  Her arms felt different.  That was going to be inconvenient.  She needed the usual comfortable familiarity she had with a bow to really work her magic. But while the bow itself felt pretty alright, Clint's arms were weird.  Strong, but weird.

 "It's _not_ fine," Clint answered, "It _hurts_. Are you - did the spell not give you a shooting pain in your stomach?"

"It's not your stomach," she informed him calmly, reaching back for an arrow.  He wore his quiver at a different angle than she did.  She took it off and started adjusting the straps, glad that the explosion which had accompanied this spell had created enough of a barrier to keep them protected while they got their bearings, "It's your uterus. You're on my period."

Clint made a face.  "Well, can't you take medicine for it?"

She snorted, "For my period? No."

Clint grunted under his breath, "That's not what I meant.  Can't you take medicine for it _hurting_?  I was pretty sure there were pills for that. Midol?  Is that the one?  Bobbi used to send me to get Midol."

She smiled grimly at him.  "It's _a_ one. I prefer Pamprin. But it doesn't matter. I took it three hours ago, _and_ I doubled it up with Advil, and I'm not supposed to take it again for another three hours. You're just gonna have to suck it up and deal."

Usually, she didn't cramp as badly as she had this month.  She blamed Clint for that, too.  Things had been even more stressful than usual lately, what with him buying apartment buildings he wasn't supposed to buy and putting a target on both their backs. And the Madame Masque thing was kind of his fault too, and also stressful.  Stress always made her cramps worse.

"Yeah," Clint complained, "But it's over the counter stuff, isn't it?  It's not like you're gonna OD.  You can't go into a fight like this!"

She snorted, swinging Clint's quiver back up over her new, broad, weird man-shoulders.  "I can, and I do, and now you do too.  And anyway, I've seen you fight, like, 10 minutes after they let you out of the hospital before, so I don't want to hear about it. Come on."

Clint sniffed disapprovingly, "Well, I think you only ought to feel like you got hurt when you got hurt. How in the world are you supposed to judge your injuries-"

A second explosion sounded, and the wall of rubble in front of them, from the first explosion, started crumbling down again. They both started running, Clint stopping to grab her bow first.

"Your boobs feel weird when I run," he informed her from a few feet back.

"Your center of gravity is too high," she shot back, "And it's fine, you're in a sports bra. Good as it's gonna get."

" _Your_ center of gravity is too _low_."

"My center of gravity is futzing _perfect_.  Just like the rest of me."

She could hear a series of shouts behind them. She looked over her shoulder and almost tripped because she wasn't used to Clint's body yet. The bad guys were following them. She turned to face forward, watching where she was going as she reached back and found an arrow with her fingers. At least _that_ felt right, now that she'd made the adjustments, though Clint's fingers were weirdly big.

Clint was fumbling for arrows from her quiver, because he _hadn't_ adjusted it to match his own expectations, but she thought he might have a better chance of staying on his feet to shoot while running than she would.  This whole man-body thing was weird.  Her own center of gravity would at least ground him. Probably.  If he didn't screw it up.

She looked at the arrow before she set it on the bow. It looked like a concussive one. Good.  She didn't have to be as accurate if it was going to blow up on impact.  She flipped around backward, coming to a halt for just long enough to loose the arrow before Clint reached out a hand and dragged her around again, forcing her to keep up.

She really needed to trim her nails. They weren't long, or at least, not compared to some of her old friends' nails, with their fancy spa manicures, but they were surprisingly sharp. Clint's - her - arms were plenty strong, but even as he tugged her along with him, she knew this bigger body wouldn't _have_ to come if that was all the muscle in play.  Her nails, though... she wanted him to let go before he scratched her.

The arrow exploded, and she felt a little more sure of herself this time, as she turned back to look over her shoulder.

Clint's sharp nails were reaching toward her again, like he didn't like her slowing down.  Well, he could deal.  She needed to know what they were fighting.

Not that what they were fighting was all that much anymore.  The explosion had taken out three guys, though they were clearly not down permanently, and that left just two behind them.

Clint had gone for a concussive arrow, too, and when his hit, they turned back to find the other two guys incapacitated. They slowed to a stop.

"Why is your lower back sore?" Clint asked.

"Period," she answered.

"Lame."

With the incapacitated bad guys behind them still stirring, though not getting up, they had to call the police before they could do anything about whatever had started this whole body-swap thing. By the time they'd dealt with getting everything cleared up with the authorities, it had been almost two hours of standing around trying to explain things they couldn't explain. As the cops finally left, they found themselves just standing there, looking beat.

"You know what I want?" Clint said, massaging his lower stomach absently.

She didn't answer.  If he was gonna whine about her period again, she didn't want to encourage him.

"A nap," he said, answering his own question. "And a sandwich."

Her - Clint's - stomach growled in response. "Yeah," she agreed. "And maybe some pizza. For Lucky and me."

Clint grunted in agreement.  "So we're gonna deal with this later?" he said, waving vaguely between them.

"Yeah," she answered, "Pizza first."

At the end of the day, you had to prioritize. And superheroing for long enough usually left you prioritizing in weird ways.  You just got used to things not quite making sense and went with it.

Lucky seemed to recognize that something was wrong with his people, whining at them even after Kate gave him a slice of pizza, and not stopping until they both stopped to pet him and reassure him that they were alright.

Then he quite contentedly curled up on the couch with Clint, whose pain meds had almost completely worn off by now, and who was half curled in on himself as he tried to eat his sandwich without dropping crumbs down her cleavage.  Not that she thought he would particularly mind fishing the crumbs back out again, but then she'd have to hit him, and they both knew it.

Usually, Kate would probably have popped a couple more pills as soon as she got home, but since she'd told Clint he had to wait until the time on the bottle said he could take more, she thought she ought to stick to it.  Besides which, he seemed fine. Sort of.

He finished his sandwich and then laid down on the couch, curling tighter in on himself with that usual cramp instinct to get into the fetal position.  "Aww, uterus," he muttered under his breath.

She took pity on him and dug her purse out from under the chair where she'd left it when they got the call that they were needed. She poured a couple of pain pills into her hand and took them over to him.  "Here, whiny.  You'll be fine."

"I'm not whiny," he answered grumpily, sitting up long enough to swallow the pills before lying back down, "I just don't think you should feel injured unless you've been injured. Don't know how you ever know if something's actually wrong or not."

She rolled her eyes affectionately, "Yeah. S'important to know exactly what it is you're ignoring."

"'Xactly," he answered, "Take us right now.  We're ignoring magic. That's fine.  Magic's dumb.  And half the time, it goes away on its own.  'F we'd got shot, we wouldn't ignore it.  S'fine."

He had ignored being shot at least twice since she met him.  Maybe three times. She didn't mention it. "Yeah.  We'll work it out if it doesn't fix itself by tomorrow. 'Til then, I should probably warn you that you'll have diarrhea for at least the rest of the day. Probably most of tomorrow. And you might want to try some yoga once the pills kick in.  Help 'em out a little.  I'm gonna go crash in your room."

She did, ignoring his attempts to call her back downstairs.

When she woke up again a few hours later, on the couch and _decidedly_ back in her own body, it was almost even worth the cramping to know she'd at least inflicted it on Clint for a while.  It was petty, especially since he _had_ given her what was originally his bow and he was letting her keep the codename, but sometimes she just really enjoyed giving him a little grief.  It wasn't like he didn't deserve it, now and again.


End file.
